


The Storm and the Snake

by SkyVulpes



Series: Creative Writing Things That I Shan't Share With Those That Know Me [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Deceit's Name is Damian, M/M, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, Virgil has a blind eye, because i think it suits him, but i failed that so, but little did the teacher know, damian has burn marks, remus and roman and logan are virgil's brothers, she was getting FANFICTION, the pairings more of a squint thing but i thought it was cute, this was a creative writing assignment, this was supposed to be a fairy-tale type thing, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyVulpes/pseuds/SkyVulpes
Summary: Damian was prepared for many things.Making a new friend in detention was not one of them.The snake is also a new development.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: Creative Writing Things That I Shan't Share With Those That Know Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662907
Kudos: 67





	The Storm and the Snake

**Author's Note:**

> If'n y'all decided to look at the tags, you will see that I did not tell my teacher that I was/am liable to write fanfiction. So yeah.  
> If'n y'all read this, you will also see that I was a little bit sad about my grade, but I understand that this isn't really a fairy tale in the technical sense.

There’s a freshman in the halls of the dreary high school who’s looking at Damian Askook with barely concealed horror in his violet and green eyes. Staring at the left side of his face. His own mitch-matched eyes widening, he brings his hand up, terror overtaking him as he comes to the realization that this kid- this _small, freshman child_ \- can see through his illusions. Which probably means he can see every other mark and bruise from his father. Oh _no._

The rest of the day passes by in a blur as he dreads the detention (reason for said detention is not important other than the fact that he’s failed his science and has nearly blown up the school) with the kid (he decked someone on accident) who can apparently see his scars. Honestly, it feels like the time he tried to run away from home after his father broke his arm and didn’t get him medical help; an overwhelming sense of panic, the knowledge that there’s nothing he can do to help his situation, and that avoiding the current issue is already causing massive problems and will no doubt make the end result worse. Hearing the final bell ring, he tries taking as long as he can to pack up. Finally admitting to himself that it would only take longer if he put it off more, he saunters into the classroom with a bland look. The teacher looks at him over the top of her book and sniffs disdainfully before going back to reading. The other kid was already there, leg bouncing nervously. From this side of his face, Damian can see his green eye is actually a sort of pale minty color. Sliding into the seat next to him, he wastes no time.

“What do I look like to you?” he asks bluntly. “Also, what’s your name?”

The kid jerks so badly that he nearly falls off the chair. Turning to stare at him with his purple eye, Damian’s mind comes to a screeching halt as he registers that the pupil of his green eye was just a few shades of a darker green, not the black of a normal pupil. “Virgil Storm,” the kid starts quietly before gesturing to his green eye, a sharp undertone entering his voice. “And it would be great if you didn’t come up on the side that I’m blind on.”

“Sorry. Now answer my other question. What do I look like to you?”

Virgil stared at him. “You have a dark brown and an amber eye, what looks to be a burn scar across half your face, and you are covered in bruises.”

Damian slumps back, making a resigned sound even as he feels like crying. Feels like he’s failed his mother. He also doesn’t know if he wants to scream at this kid or pretend he’s insane. “There should be a glamor.” Twitching his head over to the side as he saw a shadow writhe into existence, he tried to ignore the snake as it coiled in the edge of his vision. _Snakes,_ he thought as another joined the first. _Why is it always snakes?_

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels something touching his hand lightly. Glancing over, he sees Virgil’s fingers resting on his own while the boy in question has a slight frown on his face. There was the most peculiar feeling of _something_ being drawn out of his skin, like someone tugging on his shirt. Ripping his hand away once the feeling stopped, he stares at Virgil, who was now rubbing at his shoulders and collarbone. As his hoodie sleeve slips down, Damian sees deep, dark bruises on his wrist and twining around his forearm. Odd. They looked like the ones Damian has- wait.

Yanking up his own sleeve, he stares at the unblemished skin. He sees faint violet sparks rising from his skin, watches them wink out of existence with a faint jingle like a fairy laugh (and he knows what those sound like since they visit him quite often when he’s locked in his room).

“Um… magic?” Virgil offers with a weak grin. “It just- I can heal, but it- the injuries- go to me instead.” He shifts nervously. “What about you?” 

“Illusions,” he responds, too stunned to come up with a reason to not tell this boy with sparkling magic and a blind eye. “If I use it for too long I start hallucinating. So right now there’s about six shadow snakes in the corner and draped along the walls.”

“Snakes?” Virgil tilts his head. “Your last name is Askook, right?” Damian nods. “Askook means snake in Native American.”

“It was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Was?”

Damian hesitates, torn between wanting to share everything with this boy, this… new friend _\- freaks don’t have friends, and you shouldn’t either,_ his father’s voice hisses in his mind- or leave the only person that seems to actively want to be nice to him in the dark. So he braces himself. And he tells Virgil about his parents. How his father was nice and loved him while she was still around, how his mother was the one that taught him to use his magic, how the fire that burnt their house down took his mother and gave him the burn that covers half his face, how his father turned cold and hard when his wife died. 

How his father started drinking and hitting him because it was his fault that his mother went back in the house to rescue him when he got stuck in his room at age eight, and she was trapped by the debris after saving him.

And in return, Virgil told him about how his parents were charged with child negligence and he was being raised by his brothers, Logan, Remus, and Roman. 

They spent all of the detention talking, even after the foul looks the teacher kept throwing their way. When the detention finished an hour later, Damian basically dragged him to the entrance of the school and out the door, carefully staying on the right side of Virgil so as to not freak him out.

They laughed as they trotted to the crosswalk, only pausing briefly to see if cars were coming before sprinting across. 

But all good things must come to an end.

There was a rapid series of events that occurred in the next 45 seconds.

First, Damian caught sight of a tan truck behind them and went rigid. His hand found its way to Virgil’s arm and he gripped it hard before trying to push him away. Virgil stumbled, eyes widening, and said “What-” before the truck sped up to be next to them and they were grabbed and thrown into the back seat. 

“So who’s your _friend_ , Damian,” Patton Sanders says, leering at his son in the rearview mirror. Damian meant to stay silent, but seeing Virgil open his mouth, he quickly butts in. 

“No one, Father,” he said, gritting his teeth and releasing the illusion on his face to make sure he wasn’t going to be hallucinating the whole time his father decided what to do with him and Virgil. Curling around him and watching the scenery fly by, Damian mentally peruses his options. 

Returning to himself about ten minutes later (and it sickens him that he was still too afraid for Virgil to think), he jerks away as Patton reaches for him after yanking the car door open. Rolling his eyes, he simply grabs at Virgil instead, who bites back a wail as the recently acquired bruises flare up again. Pulling Virgil against him as Damian lunges forward, he flips out a switchblade and holds it warningly against the boys neck. “Give me a reason, Damian,” he sneers, “and I will.” 

Damian slowly backs away and averts his gaze. Patton narrows his eyes. “And cover your face!” he barks. “It’s unsightly.”

He reluctantly covered his face and looked at Virgil, who had gone pale as he stared up at the looming building, broken windows and a presence like heavy fog in the road. Patton tugs on his arm with an overly cheerful but no less threatening growl of “Come on, boy,” and he allows himself to be led forward with another look of panic towards Damian, who follows silently. Reaching the door, Patton shoves them both in and there’s the clear sound of the deadbolt sliding into place. For a moment, there’s silence other than the soft scritch-scratch of skin on skin as Virgil wrings his hand and the quiet moan of the wind sweeping through the cobwebs. His father wheels around, and, on instinct, Damian throws up an illusion to show them on the other side of the room. His father grunts and heads for the real ones, but at this point, Virgil’s fight or flight has kicked in. 

Evidently flight won’t do much good for now, so he lunges forward with a fearful caterwaul, Damian mere seconds behind him. Patton swings out and Virgil is the one hit by the heavy blow, slamming into the floor with a subdued crunch and a yowl of agony. Damian watches his friend -his first friend, _his only friend since his mother died_ \- curl up on the floor, holding a broken wrist with tears streaming down his face as he still tries to get up.

Turning to his father with rage making his eyes burn and head swim, he tries something he’s never done before. 

He calls out to the snakes. Watches the smoke and vapor and ash writhe together to display the collection of serpentine shadows that have been appearing more and more since his mom, since he took her maiden name. As he stares at them, they seem to become more solid, until they almost look flesh and blood and he knows his father can see them. They twine their way towards Patton, all except one. Disregarding his screams of panic, Damian crouches to see that there’s a tiny yellow snake with eyes red as a ruby, barely the length of his hand and only as wide as his pinky finger. It flickers its tongue at him, and he smiles softly at it, picking it up and making his way to Virgil’s side. It curls around his wrist, seemingly unfazed by the situation. 

“Is that one of the ones that you see a lot?” Virgil asks, voice sounding strangled.

“No. never seen this little one before.” he smiles at the snake again. She (it seems like a she) wriggles happily. 

“You need to get to a hospital.” He stands and plops the snake onto Virgil, and she quickly finds her way onto his unbroken wrist and abruptly transforms into a solid golden bangle shaped like said snake.

“What are you doing?”

“You are not walking. I’ve seen you trip over air in school, and that was when you didn’t have a broken wrist that you could probably damage even more.” Damian picks him up. It’s not graceful, and it’s probably not even comfortable, but it’s at least functional. He leaves the crumpled form of his father on the floor, breathing shallow but still alive.

About five minutes later, they’ve resituated themselves so that it’s at least a bit more comfortable. Damian staggers out the door, holding Virgil in his arms like he’s some sort of damsel in distress and realizes that, where the snake turned into an ornament on Virgil, he can feel something on the same spot. It’s a sort of rhythmic thumping, and it clicks with him that it’s Virgil’s heartbeat when it speeds up abruptly as he nearly drops the smaller male. 

“So what’re you gonna name her?” Virgil’s eyes gleam in the fading light. “Macaroni?”

He readjusts. “No. What about Cecilia?” he asks, blowing out a sigh of relief as the street that Virgil lives on comes into view. 

Virgil hums, thinking. “That’s a pretty name. Was it your mom’s?”

“Yeah. She always liked yellow.”

They lapse into silence until Virgil’s house comes into view. It’s a small, ramshackle place, but it feels soft and warm; familial and safe. Virgil starts swatting at Damian with his good arm.

Damian allows him to slip out of his arms, but he’s the one that knocks on the door. A tired looking man with messy brown hair and striking ruby eyes opens it, stares, and throws his arms around Virgil with a mix of scolding, relief, and panic, especially upon realizing that his younger brother’s wrist is broken. Another person who looks nearly identical to red-eyes, but this one with a white streak in his bangs and poisonous green eyes. As they’re driven to the hospital in a slightly run down car, Damian taps the seat fabric to the beat of Virgil’s heart, learns that Virgil can’t heal himself, the red-eyed male is Roman the green-eyed one is Remus, and the raven with dark sapphire eyes is Logan. 

The three older brothers learn what happened and exchange glances. They get to the hospital, and Damian learns something else.

That there’s room in their little family for someone else. He nearly cries, but that’s not how he wants to end his day, so instead, he hugs his new guardians, thanks them from the moon and back, and laughs. 

And for the first time in a long time, he dispels the illusion and smiles.


End file.
